2020

Nothing nothing nothing happened this year

people died

my grandmother died

between so many pointed fingers that everything got lost.

Nothing to tell about a heart left to collect dust

nothing to say in differentiating from white to grey

nothing to comment on in losing the burning of alcohol.

Everything was a repetition that became the code in the system and the beginning of the robots in the human.

All left to the betrayal of the fatigue that is watching the window like television.

There are no letters to formulate everything that did not happen,

for all that was left in the burial of too much pain and nothing.

It was forgotten and retired this year in a way that felt like a Monday through Sunday that was lost in the blink of a rotten society.

Nothing happened

Except my youth turned to arteries of rocks and suicidal mentality

Nothing happened

Except that everything proposed became the end of a joke drowned in supplications of tears that killed

Nothing happened

Except losing faith that there would be a balance waiting for us at the end of it all.

Ta.

The bad writer

I doubt

I doubt

I doubt

being good

being able

to have the courage

to expose the column

and let the world play with it

I doubt

to allow a map of my arteries to be created

that my language can be learned

I make it basic for everyone to jump the rope with it

I doubt

I can go on, because I fear the world will catch what I say when my fingers get lost on the keyboards

And my lips read like they running from love 

I doubt

that I should continue with this massacre that is

evil to me

to you

and all

because the Gods have not blessed me

I have no one saying that there is greatness in me

I don't have a spirit to break

to expose me to a broken mirror

and glasses in gallery

so that the universe knows what disaster is the life that I try to practice in languages ​​that a child of five talks to adults

I doubt

to reach far

to get ovations

to do speeches

to love

to make torments

that makes the eyes cloud in tears

of celebration

of happiness

of victory

I doubt that what I dream can become a reality

When every word I write comes with a quiver as a signature

TA.

Shadow

When you told me you were leaving, I packed my bags to follow you

when you burned our bridge, I stole Icaru's wings and flew far from the sun

when you lied to me about the date and escaped between the gaps of my fingers, 

I made a deal with the devil and sewed myself to your body as your shadow.

Without both of us wanting it, I found myself chasing your soul to protect it.

If you hurt, I cry and if you go, I follow 

and it is a dependency that could leave many upset.

But you are a mirror for what my demons have trained to control.

So if you are taking diagonals and unknown corners it is fine because I've learned the language of the stars and I know the sound of your footsteps.

If you want to go by boat, I warn you that I have hidden all the coins for payment in the warmth of my heart.

There is no path you take that I won’t follow as an abandoned in life, because between the time we met and we got tangled up, I tied my hand to yours and promised that even in the knowledge of the betrayal I will accompany you as the last ally that you have. 

So go to the high ground and the rebellious sea that I have trained with my life to face nature so you don’t feel the fear and pain that it is to be without someone in your corner.

TA.

Never doubt

Be it at two in the morning

eight at night

 a Sunday without rain

 my birthday

the end of the year

or the death of my grandmother

my exhausted legs will still be there to support your fall.

Even in the trembling of the dawn, don’t hesitate to dial my name

don’t doubt in the shaking of my fingers that still have the strength to hold the blood of your wounds

And when you feel that the world is oppressing you, trust my muscles that they still have the last energy left, for you.

I am one of those who understand that the truth sounds false and that everything that shines is harm to life

However, be it the month you invent, the year you lose, the distance you create, know that if you moan a broken note my lungs can push this body to your land.

I may be of broken promises, of abuse in my childhood, of an abandonment that haunts me, of a sadness that is hopscotch, but I am committed to death.

I am, that without a blood pact I'll go to war for you.

So be it, ten minutes after my birth

fifteen minutes after my love

thirteen minutes after our goodbye

know that my broken bones are prepared to be your pillow

that my voice still knows lullabies

and my eyes for you can find the buried smile

so

please

please

please

please

Don’t hesitate

that if everything falls apart in deceptions and ghosts

that if everything is lost in mist and voices that are distorted echoes

Never

doubt

that I will not skip my life to find you and offer you my heart as a lifeline.

TA.

Hear me out

I stand on the reef

the waves are wetting my feet

I'm shivering with the east wind

the sun burns my skin,

the world is holding its breath

while

I proclaim

I order

them to listen when I shout that

I LOVE YOU

I swear to you that my cells were made to meet you

that everything in my being is a compass that points to you

we are metal and magnet

and nature stumbles me so that I fall into your arms.

I climb to the treetops

the birds stop their flights

my hands bleed from the branches

my throat dries up in the warm wind

but I still sigh that

I love you

because I promise you that my legs fall but my arms push to look at your eyes and meet me for the first time,

I have books, libraries, universities of the knowledge that I have learned of you

everything I have done, every mistake and correction has led me to the shooting that is to grab your hand and steal you.

I want you to understand that I stand at the coldest point of the poles,

with the trembling in the bones,

the seals' sing,

the penguins' dance

the cold is taking my life but I say between broken lips that

I love you

because I want you to know that what built this universe put me there to create paths that always lead me to you

TA.

The walk

I'll take the cobbled street

Where you lose your first cigarette

I’ll go alone, it is better than bad company

I'll go looking for I don't know

A distraction

A breath

A dodge

I'll probably go on a Sunday

Between three and four

That is when the world takes its breath

I'll drag my feet as if I'm looking to take flight

With the fingers making the wind his piano keys

I'll be with the smile caught in my eyes

Counting the meters that separate me from the ground to the clouds

I’ll be, most likely, distracted

Trying to remember where I was headed

I’ll go down the street where the trees still like to give the cold summer shade

I’ll go in silence, but humming that song that I have stuck since I thought I had crossed you between three avenues and a continent.

I’ll be meditating questions that haunt me in the hours that sleep weighs on me and I’ll be a stumble waiting to happen,

I’ll walk through the streets where my steps have an echo in all the balconies and I can be without feeling all the looks that are imaginations

I’ll go without hesitation

With head held high

With crooked feet

And with the lips

To say

Oh, it's you I was looking for.

TA.

Boxing bag

The heart

I have it

of crumbs scattered

map divided into enemies

I gave it to everyone who had silence as a help

A harp with wind fingers that cried for those who didn’t dare to lament.

I have it to shreds for having moulded it into a boxing bag so that everyone who visits has a piece of peace.

So it has been,

forgotten that this organ is what keeps me alive,

rejected that with one more blow I die,

denied that each person who said he loved me is tattooed in it to then leave me.

My life I have it,

like marzipan that I let anyone take

like cotton candy that I carry to the height of whims.

  I leave it free and without a  shed

still believing that maybe one day someone will point it’s way to me.

TA.

Double sided

I am the broken mirror

the lost voice machine

the dead VCR

the deleted photo

I am everything that sounds like fog and never identifies

I am those tree roots that get tangled and complicated

And no one can define

I am the lies that your hands can hold

the dead truths at your feet

the blood that falls at midnight

the pains that you bite between sutured lips

I'm the reaching out to stop the devil's drool

I am those cobwebs that break with distracted hands

I'm my smiles marked by fangs as corner snaps

the looking to the side

the inventing of languages

and the stuttering in everything you know

I am the first name that lied to me

I am who they call me but I won’t respond

I am death looking for the forgotten.

TA.

The return

It comes with a tun tun

With a patter that sounds like a tired old man

Comes with the dragging of chains

Like a ghost from past parties.

Comes with my fingers stretching my lips

And learning to smile even through the damage.

It comes with that I wonder if anyone hears the echo and frowns at so much effort.

I know I should set it free

Open the door of the cage and as a motherless pigeon teach it about free flight

But

They are mine

My reflections

My acquaintances

The color of my eyes

The scent of my blood

The taste of my feelings

It comes with the knowledge that this is a circus.

That is what I have created from what I have been taught.

It comes with the memory of an abandoned child.

It comes with being a malnourished mode, one that erases and eliminates all possibility of being human.

It comes as if it was never gone

TA.

Tango

Exhausted that everything is in pairs

That love comes with commitments

And help comes with expectations

Everything is a coming and going that leaves you stained in the hands of those who grab you.

It’s tiring to always have to fall back on the same doctrines that 1 + 1 = salvation

That what is needed in the world is a pair that saves them from the sins that weigh on your shoulders.

Exhausted from having to go with that Atlas is singular

That death is done alone

That life starts alone

That the middle is a nuisance to deceive us from the oppressive loneliness

It is annoying how everything you see is a solution where they are caught at the will of another.

In a dependent relationship that leaves you with the emergency number memorized

And it is tiring to go with the explanation that not everything is a shared dance.

Not everything is tango and seesaw

That there is, although it sounds so strange, a loneliness that does not come wrong, that there is a -1 that is worth nothing but is better than continuing with waiting for help to arrive.

May salvation not be eyes that ignore you and only build you to their ideals.

It is exhausting that throughout life what is forced on us is that without another we are a currency without exchange value

TA.

The madness of the pathetic

For you, there is only one writing

there is a circle that has been burned to my insides

my favourite wound

one of the sleeves rolled up

purple lips

lost eyes

and fingers memorizing the last brush of your hands on my skin.

It's dementia

but you were an obsession and for you, there is a round trip

that leaves me thirsty, begging, lost, searching and desperate

because for you I am repeating the same phrases as my body is the ghost of us,

my eyes don't forget the existence of your body

3 steps from me

2 breaths from me

1 kiss from me

and it's madness who knocks my dreams

when I don't remember how to sleep without you

you are my favourite delusion that I remember as stubborn with red

and my memory can jump ship but the fingers still move with a trembling

in Greek,

in death,

your name like a prayer that doesn't get lost

for you, I only have to insist on my poems

that keeps you in the step of close

of the infinity 

of the pathetic

of the need of you in me

TA.

The want

I want to incite the animal in you

I want you to burn the ground where I commit crimes

I want to unleash the basic in your bones

I want you to burn out for me

and I know that is the selfishness of love talking

but, you see, I am of the dark romantics

nobody taught me

I was of kick and punches

and my way is macabre that drives the one that cross my path crazy

and the priest speak in Latin to me

I want you to lose yourself in my dementia

I want you to harass me like stars to the moon

I want you to hold me in your arms and not give me escape

I want that when you say you love me to be the echo of my feelings

I want that when the world mentions us as they refer to one person

(one heart divided in two)

I want everything that makes up your molecules to combust because you miss a smile, a blink a breath, a word,

to curse whoever you have at hand because you must know if what drowns me is your presence. 

I want you

I want you

I want you

to love me with the stalking of death

to leave me with the impossibility of an act to follow you

TA.

The doubts of the writer

I doubt

I doubt

I doubt

to be good

to be able

to have the courage

to expose my column

and let the world play with it

I doubt

to let a map be created of my veins

that my language can be taught

even though I do it basic enough to jump the rope with it

I doubt

that I can carry on as I fear that the world traps what I say when my fingers get lost in the keyboard

and my lips read as if they had shot the start.

I doubt 

that I should continue with this massacre that is

evil to me

to you

and everyone

Because the Gods haven’t blessed me

I don’t have anyone telling me I have greatness in me

I don’t have the spirit to break

to expose me to a broken mirror

and glasses in the gallery

so the universe knows what disaster is the life that I try to practice in a language that a  child of five talks with an adult

I doubt

I can get far

to standing ovations

to speeches

to lovers

to torments

that makes my eyes cloudy with tears

of celebration

of joy

of victory

I doubt that what I dream can become a reality

when the word that I write comes with a shake as a signature.

TA. 

Bleach

Forgetting you came with bleach

with my hands without fingerprints

the clothes in the fort-block bin

the fake passport

and the change of number.

Erasing you came in the colour of the rainbow,

that I flip the coin and guiding me with a broken compass

I left with broken bottles,

red eyes,

crooked teeth

and broken heart

I got desperate because your ghost has an echo

I disappeared in the presence of everyone

running through our corners with smiles choked on tears,

I left with the laces untied, burned photos, the desire to still know you

I hit my head against the walls, I fell down the stairs, I gave myself an OD because forgetting you was taking,

my name

my reflection

my love

and I was dying with every cleanse

The amnesia of you was burning my country

burning bridges

cutting my hair

sewing my lips

walking without running

to end at your feet to beg you to please please please please let me go without your ties that drown me to return to you.

TA.

Drunk of Buenos Aires

Sometimes I wonder if you think of me, 

If in between sitting under the sun and getting up from the shade my name appears as a drunk of Buenos Aires. I stop in those minutes to think if there is a fleeting second where the two of us are stars destined to never cross paths. 

Its that I found a bittersweet taste at the chance that you pass through our streets and your skin burns to run away from the ghosts that still haunt the dirty corners of our minds.

Is curiosity tempting the cat, however, the years with their decades can pass, my heart can betray me two more times and my life can stop between all and me. And even then I will wonder if in a fleeting moment of oblivion you think about how is it that we are sharing the same planet. 

TA.

Runaway

I want to get out of my skin, out of the bones I have broken, the muscles I have burned. I want to leave this weight behind and kill the brain that still repeats the moments when you made me laugh. Abandon ship is what I am aiming for and need if I want to get somewhere, and I’m desperate enough to have summoned demons and angels to help me in this plan of mine to betray what is weighing on me.

I don’t owe you any explanations beyond the fact that my feet drag through the same streets to relive the moments in which I stupidly fell in love with the person who would take me to my knees and brake my defences.

I can’t keep up with the calendar and the hollow schedule that are promises made of lies, so I am pleading for the Grim Reaper to bring me the peace of this torture that is to have learned how to breathe. 

TA.